


It's a secret.

by CiaraSky



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Snow, Winter, secret, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiaraSky/pseuds/CiaraSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's an almost-Christmas surprise from Stiles for Derek. And of course it's cheesy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a secret.

“They are staring, Stiles,” Derek complains and turns his head around and around.

“I don’t care, Derek,” Stiles whispers and smiles while squeezing Derek’s hand.

“They probably think I’m kidnapping you or something,” the older man whispers back.

“Nah,” Stiles says smirking and licks his lip. “Probably looks more like me kidnapping you.”

Stiles is most likely right. He drags him along the sidewalk, their fingers intertwined, small white puffs of breath escaping Stiles’ mouth. His cheeks are flushed from the cool winter’s air and his lips are pink. The beanie he’s wearing looks ridiculous, a bit too big and with an over-sized pompom at the end, in green and blue.

“Where are we going?” Derek asks and manages to avoid bumping into a particularly fat man that blocks half the sidewalk.

“Secret,” Stiles said with a mischievous grin as he turns his head around to look at Derek. The older man can smell the satisfaction this secretiveness triggers in Stiles. Or maybe it’s just because it’s so easy to tease him.

“Please tell me this doesn’t involve me having to embarrass myself,” Derek groans and catches up to Stiles as soon as they passed the blimpy man.

“Who knows?”

“Jeez, Stiles!” Derek growls and breathes out nosily at Stiles’ snicker. But he can’t be mad at Stiles. Could never be, not for long.

“Patience, Derek,” Stiles simply replies and increases his speed, pulling Derek with him. And laughs.  
It gives Derek goosebumps.

Suddenly, white little snowflakes fill the air. It’s not much, they wouldn’t even be able to increase the slight snow blanket that covered Beacon Hills two days ago. But the land on Stiles’ beanie, on his scarf, his cheeks (where they melt immediately, leaving the smallest drops of water) and his eyelashes. Stiles looks up at Derek through them and his heart skips a beat. How could this sarcastic, grinning, fragile teenage boy affect him like this? When did it happen?

Well, it smacked Derek in the face when Jennifer left him unconscious on the elevator floor and even though Stiles had no obligation to rescue him, he did. By punching him in the face. So it literally smacked Derek in the face.

“Hey winterbear, use your eyes,” Stiles says and breaks through Derek’s train of thoughts. “Come on, get in.”

Before them stands Stiles’ Jeep, little fluffs of snow all over it. Stiles brushes them off the windshield on the driver’s side, opens the door and attempts to get in, but lingers as Derek doesn’t follow his example.

“Where are we going?” Derek asks, looking around like searching for clues.

“I told you: secret. Now get in,” he demands and gets into the Jeep himself. Derek huffs, but Stiles had some kind of present for him, it was Christmas in a day, and he doesn’t want to piss off Stiles so he gets in.

“Put this on,” Stiles says and hands Derek his scarf as soon as the older man got in. He looks quizzical at the cloth in Stiles’ hand.

“I’ve got a scarf myse…”  
“No, you moron, over your eyes,” Stiles says and gestures wildly at Derek’s head.

“Now it will _totally_ look like you kidnap me,” Derek counters.

“Derek?” Stiles asks in a low voice and gives him a stern look. Derek draws a deep breath.

“Alright. But just because it’s you,” he grunts and snaps the scarf from Stiles fingers.

“Yeahi,” Stiles squeals and starts the engine. “Don’t look, I dare you, or I’ll punch you.”

Derek bites down a laugh. ‘As if…’ But he remains quiet.

They turn left, right, right, left, long time nothing, then right again and Stiles kills the engine. Derek reaches for the scarf before his eyes but Stiles’ grabs his hand by the wrist midway.

“Ah, ah, ah, not yet,” he purrs and lets go off Derek’s wrist. Derek hears the ruffle of Stiles’ clothes, the opening and closing of the driver’s door and then he feels the cool air on his skin as Stiles opens the passenger’s door. “Can you get out by yourself?”

“You made me put a scarf over my eyes, Stiles, I’ve still got my other senses,” Derek says calmly and gets out without a difficulty.

“Man I wished I could to that too,” Stiles sighs and takes Derek’s hand. “Come on,” he says and pulls Derek with him

“Do I have another choice?” Derek mutters quietly and follows Stiles.

Derek knows exactly where they are, the scents are too familiar.

“Why are we…?” Derek attempts to ask but Stiles shushes him quiet. He pulls hi up the steps, up, up, up. Suddenly Derek wonders why they aren’t stopping, then re realizes: They are going up on the roof.

“Keep that scarf where it is, I’ll guide you,” Stiles warns Derek and lays an arm around the small of Derek’s back.

Derek wants to tell Stiles that he knows his loft and the roof like the back of his hand, but he bites it down. Instead, he lets Stiles guide him.

“Caution, step,” Stiles says and intensifies his grip around Derek’s back. It feels good. The cold wind howling up here cools their skin and tugs at their clothes. Everything feels good.

“Just a few more steps,” Stiles whispers and steers Derek into the right direction. The floor is slippery from the snow which crunches under their shoes.

Stiles pushes Derek a few more inches forwards until the older man’s legs and hips hit the parapet.

“Now,” Stiles whispers, rather breathlessly.

Derek unties the scarf and pulls it down.

Whatever he expected, this was far better.

They overlooked the wide wasteland behind Derek’s loft, everything covered in the white softness. And far down there on the ground were four gigantic words trampled into the snow.

“I love you Sourwolf,” Derek whispers as he reads them. He can’t stop the chuckles from building up. “Oh my,” he manages to say. “I knew you were cheesy but this tops it all.” Derek squeezes his eyes shut and laughs silently before he pulls Stiles close, who looked really abashed.

“Happy Almost-Christmas,” Stiles mumbles into Derek’s scarf, crossing his arms behind the small of Derek’s back. Derek buries his face in Stiles’ beanie and lays his arms around Stiles’ shoulders. He breathes in the magnificent of the teen, something between the fresh smell of bed linens, cocoa and breathlessness.

“I love you too, Stiles,” Derek whispers into the soft fabric. Man, he really does. "But now it isn't a secret anymore," he mocks Stiles who then raises his head to give Derek a warm glance.

"It is. Ours." 

**Author's Note:**

> I am aware that it doesn't usually snow in California, but let's just assume it does, ok? I just needed some fluff after 3x16 ))):


End file.
